<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Despondence by straight_as_ramen</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791335">Despondence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/straight_as_ramen/pseuds/straight_as_ramen'>straight_as_ramen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Confused Ghost Wilbur Soot, Crying, Five Stages of Grief, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), No Happy Ending Fest, Phil Needs a Hug, Sad, Sad Ending, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:29:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/straight_as_ramen/pseuds/straight_as_ramen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy’s death hurts everyone, even those who won’t admit it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed stories I've read</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Despondence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first DSMP fic so there are probably plot mistakes I apologise-</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sam is the first to find out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>How couldn’t he be? He is in charge of the prison, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>‘Some good prison guard you were.’ </span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It isn’t hard to hear the shouting and screaming coming from the cell, and at first he feels tempted to ignore it - Tommy and Dream have spent most of their time together screaming at each other. But something pushes him to check - he’s got a bad feeling about this, and though it seems irrational to him, he listens to his inner voice and begins the somewhat tedious process of making his way towards the cell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>He’s glad he did, because he isn’t sure he’d be able to live with the added guilt ignoring them would have caused. </span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The many safety precautions of the prison feel like no more than a hindrance now, and the closer he gets to them, the louder the shouts get. It’s the same sort of thing the two have been arguing about for the past week, which brings Sam a slight amount of comfort, but still something feels incredibly wrong. Like something horrible is going to happen, and he’s going to fail his task of keeping Tommy safe, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>why can’t this platform move any faster god dammit he’s running out of time-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s going to be okay, right? They just need someone to tell them to shut up. That, and more potatoes. There are two of them in the cell now after all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But then Dream mutters something in a voice that is too calm, too self-assured, and Tommy falls into an eerie silence. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam feels sick to his stomach, and as quickly as he can he’s lowering the lava, frantically squinting to see what’s happened. He leaps onto the next platform, waiting, waiting, waiting until finally he’s at the other side, and to say he doesn’t like what he sees would be an understatement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dream is frozen stock-still as though he can’t quite believe what has happened. And Tommy, Tommy is-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam doesn’t dare breath. He looks between the lifeless form of Tommy up to Dream and back again for what feels like forever, heart pounding in his chest. Eventually he dares to speak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck did you do.” He demands. His voice is a little shaky, but then Dream is shaking all over so he supposes it doesn’t really matter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He called me a liar.” Dream’s voice is unusually steady for someone who has just murdered another man. Sam hopes it’s a self-dignified, pompous act - he’s sure no one in this world could ever be that cruel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Moments pass with Sam just staring, a mixture of shock, disbelief, all kinds of feelings written across his face. Eventually he steps forward, grabbing the chest from it’s corner spot. He carries it over and tosses it into the lava outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you-” Dream starts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t say another word unless you want to end up down there yourself.” Sam interrupts, seizing the frame from the wall and throwing it down to burn. He keeps going, Dream watching in silence, until the only thing left in the room is the sink, and even that doesn’t feel enough to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The only reason you’re keeping that is so you don’t die.” He spits the words out like venom. “You deserve to stay here and suffer. Forever.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that he turns around, leaving Dream behind in the empty cell once more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s standing outside of the prison, deep in thought, when Ranboo and Tubbo approach. They both share a similar expression of confusion and disbelief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam…?” Tubbo starts with uncertainty. “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I couldn’t save him,” Sam chokes out. “I couldn’t get there in time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His answer is vague, but Tubbo seems to know what he’s talking about anyway. Of course he does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but-” Tubbo pauses. “He’s not dead, right? He can’t be…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s-” Sam doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t feel like he can say anything without the tears filling his eyes spilling over. He swallows hard, managing to meet eyes with Tubbo and Ranboo for a moment before he’s forced to look away. Their expressions are devoid of hope, and Sam can’t stand it. This is his fault; he’s failed them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s failed Tommy. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to check.” He excuses, not waiting for a response before he turns and heads back inside the prison. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s away before they can follow, and he closes the portal. He can’t go back out there and see the disappointment in their expressions, and there’s no way he’s going back to Dream. That green bastard can rot for all he cares. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam ends up resting against the wall near the portal, eyes squeezed shut and heart full of guilt. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his fault, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he </span>
  <em>
    <span>failed. He failed and now Tommy is dead. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He should have listened to Tommy sooner. He should have believed the kid when he said this was worse than exile. He should have just risked the security breach and </span>
  <em>
    <span>let him out. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he didn’t, and now Tommy has paid the price. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo doesn’t know what to think. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s sort of funny, right? He should know; he always knows what to say. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Part of him doesn’t believe it, and he’s more than happy to feed into that part. It cannot be real; Tommy doesn’t die. He wouldn’t just die to Dream in a prison like that. Tubbo knows his best friend, and Tommy wouldn’t go out in such a boring way. Tommy would go out with a bang, a death to be remembered by all forever. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers a time, months ago now, when he thought Tommy was dead. When he finally stopped listening to Dream </span>
  <em>
    <span><strike>Dream is the cause of all of this </strike> </span>
  </em>
  <span>and set out on a journey, one he had taken many times before in secret. His compass had been long gone, but he knew the way off by heart. He didn’t need the compass to tell him where Tommy would be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers the feeling of uncertainty when he arrived and Logstedshire seemed devoid of life - even more so than usual. And the feeling of disbelief that set in when he saw the remains of the house, Tommy’s home, and the tent reduced to torn fabric and rubble. Finally, he remembers that awful pain in his chest when he looked up and spotted the tower. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Back then, Tubbo had stared around in disbelief for hours, and that’s what he’s doing now. But last time his grief was cut short. There was no trace of death; no discarded items or a body near the tower, and no message to indicate Tommy’s death. He had dared to feel hopeful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to feel that same hope now, and the excitement and relief upon finding out Tommy was alive. And he wants the compass back, pointing him to Tommy no matter how bad things were. He wishes he never lost it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But wishing won’t do anything. For now, he has to wait for a flicker of hope to indicate that Tommy is okay. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s continue building the hotel.” He decides, because he can’t stand just sitting here and thinking about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranboo raises an eyebrow at him. “You want to go back to building…? Just like that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not dead, Ranboo.” Tubbo states emptily. “I refuse to believe it. I thought he was dead before, in exile, and he wasn’t. And I thought he was going to die when we got the disks back. Tommy doesn’t just die like that. He doesn’t.” He starts walking again, heading back to where they were before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranboo picks up his things, wordlessly following Tubbo back towards the hotel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So they continue. Tubbo listens to Jack Manifold talk about who knows what, unsure if he’s listening or if he’s just empty. He feels as though he’s acting on autopilot, head empty and actions on impulse without any real intention behind them. When he realises what he’s doing, he’s built nothing worthy of keeping. He tears it down again, focusing hard to stop the thoughts of Tommy from wandering back into his brain. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But you can’t block out thoughts forever, and soon enough he finds he’s thinking of Tommy again. He remembers a lot of things; the time Tommy caught him with the water bucket and saved him from death, and the fight to get the discs back, along with the fear of death and the feeling of accomplishment when they won. The sound of Tommy’s favourite discs; Cat and Mellohi. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy can’t be dead. He can’t be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He decides that if Tommy really is dead, then he’ll play Mellohi at his funeral. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Ranboo doesn’t understand why nobody seems bothered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy is one of the ones who have been there since the beginning. He lived through the L’manburg war, and the chaos that followed after, and the disk war, and being exiled by his own best friend. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His own best friend who seems to want to do anything but acknowledge his death. It’s like Tubbo knows and doesn’t know at the same time, too deep in denial to really get the point. Ranboo is too afraid to break him out of it, because he knows that when he does, the onset of negative emotions will be very brutal. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of being miserable (or at least showing it), Ranboo follows Tubbo around as they go back to the hotel, and then to the church. He laughs along as Tubbo rings the bell repeatedly, making all kinds of jokes about this being what Tommy would want them to do. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t help but feel as though Tommy would at least want them to register that he’s gone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s why he finds himself standing outside Tommy’s house, feeling uncertain among other things. The place is exactly how he would expect; untidy and yet well-kept at the same time. The door is carelessly unlocked, and Ranboo goes inside though he knows it’ll make him feel worse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It does. Everything looks so casual; to-do lists scribbled on the walls and half finished projects scattered around. If he focuses hard enough, Ranboo can almost pretend that everything is fine, and Tommy is just out running an errand, soon to return. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But that’s what everyone else is doing, and Ranboo sees the effects of it. They’re only going to hurt more when they realise Tommy is really gone. So he sets about what he came here to do, with some flowers at the ready. As he surrounds the house with them, he thinks of all of his interactions with Tommy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hopes Tommy would appreciate it, if he could see him now. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Philza’s been frozen in his spot since he heard the news. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was almost three hours ago now, and he supposes he should do something, yet can’t find the energy to do anything other than stare at the wall. Whatever he was working on before - he’s forgotten, and it probably means nothing now anyway - lays discarded next to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He guesses he should feel sad, or angry, or something of the like, but he doesn’t. It’s not as though this is unusual for him either; he felt the same at first when Wilbur died. Now with a second son gone, he doesn't know what to do. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when the door opens, and Ghostbur peers in at him. “Hi, Phil!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Philza mutters a response, looking up from the wall for a moment to observe the ghost. Ghostbur looks happy, and cheerful, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh god, he doesn’t know. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ghostbur is looking at him with a somewhat confused and concerned expression. “You look sad. Do you want some blue?” He offers some before Phil can even respond, pressing the dye into his hand and sitting down beside him. “What happened?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Phil sighs; this is the last thing he wanted to do right now, but someone has to tell him. “Well… You know how Tommy was in the prison?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ghostbur nods, and a smile crosses his face. “You said ‘was’. Is he free?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Phil resists the urge to groan. Sometimes the ghost can be impossible to talk to. “He’s- no, he’s… not.” Ghostbur frowns, but doesn’t say anything. “He may have… been murdered by Dream.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...what?” Ghostbur whispers, staring at Phil as though he hopes it’s a joke. Phil wishes it were, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s dead, Ghostbur.” he repeats carefully. “He’s gone. Dream killed him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But- Dream wouldn’t-” Ghostbur stops, hand reaching to grab some more blue dye. He fidgets with it, staring at the floor. “...Really?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Phil sighs tiredly, “Yup.” and resumes staring at the wall. Ghostbur sniffs, unsuccessfully fighting off tears, and wipes at his face with his free hand, accidentally smearing blue dye across his cheek. They stay in silence for 10 minutes, Phil staring coldly at the wall and Ghostbur trying to control his crying. Eventually he looks up at Phil again, his expression back to it’s usual, peaceful state. It makes sense that he would forget something like this so quickly, if he’s honest. “Phil, why are we on the floor?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” Phil mutters, and then he finally gets up, picking up the items he was using earlier and tossing them into a chest. It’s starting to get dark outside. “Ghostbur, why don’t you go and check on Tubbo? See how he is?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But…” Ghostbur stands up too and fidgets with the blue dye some more. “You look sad. I wanna stay here with you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m alright, just tired.” Phil reassures, turning to look out of the window. “Been a long day. Nothing a night of rest can’t fix.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay…” Ghostbur hesitantly agrees. “But I’ll come back after!” He reaches into his pocket to get more blue and holds it out to Phil. “Just in case you get sad while I’m gone.” He gives Phil a reassuring smile and somehow, somehow Phil manages to find it in him to return it. Then Ghostbur’s off, leaving him alone in the house again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil decides he will sleep for now, if only because he doesn’t know what else to do and he doesn’t want to just sit and think for another few hours. He climbs into bed without bothering to change or turn off lights, and stares at the wall until his body takes pity on him and allows him to sleep. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Ghostbur doesn’t remember what made Phil sad, and he realises he’s probably been told a few times over, so he decides not to ask anymore. Phil wants him to check on Tubbo, so that’s what he’ll do! He left lots of blue for his father, and blue always cheers him up, so it should do the same for him, right? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo isn’t near the hotel, or the church, or on the prime path, and it’s getting dark. Ghostbur decides he’ll check one last place; the bench. Even if Tubbo isn’t there, Tommy might be, and Tommy always knows where Tubbo is. It’s his thing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long for Ghostbur to get to the bench, but when he does, it’s completely empty. Something feels off though, and he isn’t sure what it is. He’s tired all of a sudden, so he rests on the bench for a moment to catch his breath. This place feels different, almost as if there’s another person here, even though he didn’t see anyone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wilbur?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ghostbur turns around, unable to remember who the voice belongs to. Standing just a few paces away from the bench is a very washed-up looking Tommy, and the kid’s skin is just as pale as his own. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feel free to comment or point out any mistakes I like constructive criticism so-</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>